Seventy - BF

Scott had made his way to Virgil's room

He knocked tentatively on the door. "Virg. are you in there?"

There was no reply.

He tried again. "Virgil?"

There wasn't a sound from inside the room.

He took a chance, opened the door and stepped inside. "Virgil?" he repeated. "Come on Virgil, I know you're in here. I can hear you breathing."

"Would you rather I stopped breathing?" Virgil's voice was bitter. Scott could now tell that he was lying down on his bed. "Then when you got your sight back tomorrow you wouldn't have to look at me."

"Of course not! I hope you'll be the first person I'll see." Scott felt to his right and found the chair. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Yes!"

"Please. Let me stay. We need to talk." Scott went to sit down anyway, before standing suddenly and feeling the seat. He removed Virgil's sash and belt and laid them across the chair's arm before sitting down again.

"You've always bossed us around. Well this is my room. You can't boss me in here. I don't want to talk to you."

"Please Virgil. We can't let this come between us."

"You didn't worry about that a year ago."

"That was a year ago! Things were different then."

"Only for you. I still feel the same way."

"What do you want me to do? What do you want to do? What would make you feel better? Do you want to hit me?"

"I wouldn't do anything so crass."

"Like I did?" Scott was determined to keep his temper under control.

"You had an excuse."

"There can be no excuse for hurting someone you care about."

"But words are okay are they?"

"Virgil! I've apologised. Please tell me what I can do to make you feel better towards me."

"You can leave me alone!"

"How have you managed to compartmentalise this? Over this past year, you've never treated me any different."

"I've had practise at 'compartmentalising'. My painting and music have always been separate from my technology skills. Being a Tracy is in a separate compartment from International Rescue, and International Rescue is in a separate compartment from being a Tracy. And don't forget I spent 22 years storing away my guilt over Ma's death. That had a compartment all of its own."

"But you weren't responsible!"

"Wasn't I?"

"I thought we'd ascertained that last year."

"You clearly didn't think so when you were in rehab."

"Why didn't you discuss it with me, or Father, or someone?"

"I didn't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it now. I want you to leave!" Virgil pushed a button on his remote control. His stereo started playing a strident piece of music. He turned the volume up so conversation was nigh on impossible.

"Virgil..."

"Scott!" Jeff was standing at the door. "Go get cleaned up."

"But..."

"Scott!" Jeff said forcefully. Then he softened his tone. "Go on son. I'll talk to him."

Reluctantly Scott got to his feet. "Believe me Virgil. I'm sorry for what I said. I never meant it."

Jeff was by his side taking his arm and guiding him to the door. "It's a big day for you tomorrow. It'll be the last chance you'll get to have something to eat for a while. Go have your dinner and then get some rest."

Very much against his will, Scott suddenly found himself outside the room as the door closed behind him.

"Virgil! Turn the music off!" Jeff shouted.

Reluctantly Virgil complied.

"What brought this on, son?" Jeff asked as he shifted the sash and belt to a table and sat on the chair.

Virgil was quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling. "Gordon was pretty shaken up after helping Scott today. He asked Scott how he managed to cope, being blind. Scott came on board Thunderbird Two with us to explain it to him. Gordon hadn't realised how bad it had been for him at the beginning. I think Scott told him more than he meant to. By the time he'd realised where the conversation was headed, it was too late."

"Did he repeat what he'd said to you?"

Virgil shook his head. "No. I did..."

"Why? It's been nearly a year. Why haven't you discussed it before now?"

"I wanted to forget." Virgil swung himself into a sitting position. "I didn't want to remember that Scott, of all people, had said those words, about me and Ma." He kicked at the carpet.

"He says he didn't mean it. Don't you believe him?"

Virgil looked his father in the eye. "I believe him. It doesn't make it any easier."

"I don't understand."

Virgil started pacing about his room. His unshod feet not making a sound on the soft carpet. "I don't think I do either. It's as if... as if..."

"Yes, son?"

"It's as if... No it's too stupid. Too selfish."

"Virgil." Jeff said. "Tell me."

Virgil stopped and leant on his windowsill so he could stare out over the darkening Pacific Ocean. He took a deep breath. "It's as if... With Scott probably regaining his sight tomorrow... It's as if this past year has been a complete waste of time."

Jeff frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It's as if all the struggle, all the pain, all the suffering we've put up with over the past year wasn't necessary. As if, if we'd just hibernated for the year, we could wake up tomorrow and it would be alright."

"Whose pain?" Jeff asked shrewdly.

Virgil turned to look at him and then looked down at his own hands as he twisted his long fingers together in frustration. "Mine... I told you it was selfish."

"You've been Scott's main support throughout all this."

"I know. And I've done it willingly. But now... now that it may be all over, I kinda feel that I've got nothing in return." He frowned. "No that's wrong. Nothing to show for it - that's more like it. And it's not only that..."

"Yes?"

"We've all been going on as if tomorrow's a forgone conclusion. As if we're sure that the operation will be a success... and it's not is it! We don't know. I don't think I can go through the emotional turmoil again if it's a failure. I don't know if I've got the strength to support Scott again."

"So you're pushing him away now?" Something didn't sound quite right to Jeff. "Is that why you can't forgive Scott?"

Virgil was staring at his hands as if he'd suddenly found them of great interest. "No." he eventually said. "It's not that I can't forgive Scott. I can't forgive me."

"You?"

Virgil nodded silently.

Jeff waited.

"Son?" he eventually prodded.

"I know the accident that killed Ma and Grandpa wasn't my fault." Virgil said hesitantly. "But did they know that? Did Ma blame me?"

"Oh, Virgil!" Now Jeff understood. "No she didn't blame you. I'm sure she didn't."

"I wish I was sure."

"What was the last thing she said to you?"

"She asked me to paint a picture for her and Grandpa."

"And after that?"

"To paint what was in my heart."

"And?"

"I was to think of her whenever I looked at them."

"And?"

Virgil was speaking in a whisper. The words were imprinted indelibly in his mind. "And remember that she loved me, she loved all of us."

"She loved you, Virgil. She wouldn't have said that if she blamed you. She knew it wasn't your fault."

Virgil said nothing.

Jeff sat back and looked at his son. He wished he could say something that would make Virgil truly believe what he knew to be true. "After we'd opened those boxes I was feeling pretty down. But Grandma told me something that changed my perspective. She said 'Everything happens for a reason'. I would have loved your mother to be with us now that we're International Rescue. She would have been an asset to the team. But the fact is if it hadn't been for that avalanche, International Rescue wouldn't be in existence today."

"So now you're telling me that it's okay that the avalanche happened?" Virgil sounded incredulous.

"No. I'm saying while we lost two people important to the family, we've saved a whole lot more people from having to go through the same trauma we did."

Jeff watched as Virgil frowned and tried to make sense of what had just been said.

"You're an enigma to me, son."

Virgil looked up. "A what?"

"An enigma. I know how the others tick, but I'm never sure with you. I never quite know what's going through your head. You're an artist. Artists are supposed to wear their hearts on their sleeve, and yet you've hidden this away for 23 years."

Virgil looked down again.

"And then there's the fact that you don't promote your talents. Your brothers don't have any problems showing pride in their achievements. Scott lived to fly, John writes astronomy books, Alan's got shelves of his car racing trophies, and Gordon's got his gold medal on the wall. Though where he got his love of water from is another of life's great mysteries. But you? Where are your music certificates?"

"In a box under my bed."

"And your paintings. I know we don't see half of what you do. And if anyone asks if you're any good you say something like. 'Not bad'. It's as if you don't know how good you are. And you are good Virgil."

"I know." Virgil gave something of a wry grin. "They just don't seem to be particularly useful talents."

"Don't you believe it! After a hard day there's nothing I like better than to listen to you play. I find it relaxing." As if to prove a point, Jeff stretched his legs. "You know, I watch you sometimes, when you're painting or playing the piano and I wonder just where do you get that talent from. It's certainly not from me. Then I realise that it must have been from your mother and I wonder why it's only you who inherited her talent."

"The others can play the piano."

"Yes. But they only play the notes. You play the heart and soul of the music."

"You sound like Bunny Bunsen. He said something similar when Scott and I went to see him."

"Really. What was that?"

Virgil thought a moment. "That the arts had the power to heal and calm the soul. And that I shouldn't forget that I had that gift."

"He's right. I guess the old oddball makes sense sometimes."

Virgil allowed himself the luxury of a small smile.

Jeff stood and walked over so that he was standing beside Virgil. He looked out over the inky water and watched the starlight play on the waves. "Sometimes, when it's dark, I close my eyes and listen to you play a tune and it's as if your mother is there with me. I can almost feel her standing beside me. And I can feel how proud she is with what we've achieved with International Rescue, and how proud she is of you boys."

Virgil ran his hand through his hair and closed his eyes at the thought.

"I'm telling you all this because I'm trying to pluck up the courage to do something I should have done 23 years ago, something that I couldn't do because I was too caught up in my own grief. Something that, perhaps, could have saved you from this pain you're feeling now."

"What's that?" Virgil asked quietly.

"This." Jeff wrapped his arms around his son and held him close. "It wasn't your fault, Virgil." He reiterated.

Initially Virgil tensed up at the unexpected contact. Then, as if he were unsure if it were the right thing to do, he slowly placed his own arms around his father.

Jeff continued to hold him close. "I'm sorry Virgil. I should have realised what you were thinking when you were five years old. I should have told you it wasn't your fault then. I should have talked to you a year ago and told you that Scott didn't hate you. I should have told you that your mother didn't blame you." He felt his son's strong shoulders start to shake.

Virgil began to cry.

Jeff held him closer. "That's it. Let it go. Let it all out..."

It was a release of 23 years of secrets hidden from the world...

It was a release of years of pain, both physical and mental...

It was a release of years of fear. Fears for his own safety and that of his brothers...

It was a release of sadness at failed rescues and, partially, joy at successful ones...

It was a release of the stresses of the past year...

It was a release of fear of what tomorrow might bring...

It was a release of a fear of death... and of dying.

Jeff allowed his son to work it out of his system, a lump in his throat as he realised the extent of the emotion that Virgil had bottled up inside himself.

"I still miss her." Virgil eventually gasped into Jeff's shoulder.

"I know. We all do."

Virgil straightened up and searched his pockets for a handkerchief. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" Jeff said sternly.

"But your shoulder's all wet!" Virgil blew his nose.

Jeff plucked at the clammy material. "Don't worry about it. It's a small price to pay if it makes you feel better. You do feel better don't you?"

Virgil looked at him with red eyes. "Yes I do. Thank you." Then horror took over his features. "You won't tell the others will you!"

"No. I promise I won't mention this to anyone else. And I want you to promise me something, Virgil."

"What's that?" Virgil was wiping his eyes.

"You won't bottle anything up for another 23 years will you? Don't ever be afraid to talk to someone. If not me, then Grandma, or Scott, or anyone!"

Virgil nodded. "Yes. I promise."

"Good. Anything else you want to talk about? Any other secrets that should be out in the open?"

Virgil shook his head. "No."

"In that case, I'm going to get something to eat. Care to join me?"

"No thanks." Virgil looked down at his grimy uniform. I think I'll have a wash and get changed and then I've got something I want to do. Then I guess I'll try and get a little sleep before I go with Alan to get John."

"Don't worry about that. Gordon's volunteered to take your place."

"Gordon!"

"It's his way of saying thanks for helping him this afternoon."

"It wasn't only me. It was a team effort."

"I got the feeling that he wanted to make amends too."

"But it wasn't his fault."

"I know. But he does have the advantage of having had a couple of hours sleep already." Jeff looked at his watch. "You do realise that it's well after midnight."

"Is it?" Virgil looked surprised.

"Yes. So if you want to be awake when Scott comes out of the operation I'd advise you to get some sleep now."

Virgil stifled a yawn. "Okay. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night son." Jeff started to walk towards the door.

"Father!"

Jeff stopped. "Yes Virgil?"

"Thanks." Virgil gave him a hug of gratitude. Then he pulled back. "Yuck. That's shirt feels terrible. You'd better get out of it first."

Jeff chuckled. "Good advice. Night Virgil."

"Night."